


The Way You Pull Me In

by cherryraes



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst, Based on Songs, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Endgame Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Fluffy, Friends to Lovers, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Sad with a Happy Ending, Soft Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryraes/pseuds/cherryraes
Summary: Richie Tozier didn't realize how in love he was with Eddie until it was too late.





	The Way You Pull Me In

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! this isn't, by any means, my first fic, but it is my first time posting on ao3 so please be nice :) this is gonna be either four or five chapters, though i'm not exactly sure yet. this is a modern day reddie fic, based starting in 2018. im literally trash for no pennywise fics bc honestly if you took pennywise out of IT, it'd just be a teen movie anyway. 
> 
> i talk too much, but it's just because i'm super nervous that this is shitty or something. sigh. here goes nothing.

Being sixteen was never all that interesting to Richie Tozier. He never really cared about coming to age.

Sure, there were interesting things happening; his voice dropped a couple octaves and he got a hell of a lot taller, but all Richie had ever wanted was to turn eighteen and get out of Derry. Being sixteen was just another roadblock on the journey to the rest of his life, and he didn’t care for it one bit.

“This is a big deal, Richie!” Bill said back then, lips turning downcast.

“Maybe to you, Billy.”

And maybe in retrospect, it was a big deal. It did mean that the losers were getting older, maturing. It meant that past was getting further and further away. It meant that Richie and the rest of the six were turning into the people that would take on the world. But to Richie, no age would hold a candle to eighteen.

Sixteen never mattered to Richie Tozier.

Until his sixteenth birthday actually came, and he realized that he was undeniably, whole heartedly, earth shakingly, in love with his best friend.

The morning of Richie’s birthday, he rolled his eyes fondly at the breakfast prepared by Maggie and Went. Big, fluffy pancakes with numbered candles stuck in the middle of the stack. A variety of fruits, with bacon and eggs as sides. Richie kissed his parents in gratitude, humored them by even letting them sing him happy birthday. Richie let Maggie take a ton of pictures, let Went clap him on the shoulder and tell him how he’s proud he is of the man he’s becoming. Richie loved his parents, so he would let them feel happy about his aging. Besides, if he wasn’t going to care, who better to than his parents?

After breakfast, Richie went up to shower, taking his time. It was a Saturday, so he figured his only gift to himself would be a long, drawn out morning of doing whatever the hell he wanted to. Which in this case was nothing.

He quickly realized though, that with friends like his, that was never even in the _realm_ of possibility.

When Richie walked through his bedroom door after leaving the steam-filled bathroom, he’s dressed in just black skinny jeans and no shirt, towel drying his mop of curls incessantly. He turns to make way to his closet, but is stopped with a handful of confetti hitting him in the face.

“Happy Birthday, Trashmouth.”

Once he’s past the initial heart attack and the confetti all falls to the ground, Richie saw Eddie Kaspbrak, his best friend since the beginning of time, standing in front of him with a warm smile.

“Jeez, Eds, maybe next time warn a man before giving him a heart attack.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so you turn sixteen and now you’re a man?”

Richie smirked at the smaller boy, clutching his crotch in his hands, and wagging his eyebrows. “Eddie, my main man, you should know better than anyone _just_ how much of a man I am.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “You’re absolutely disgusting.”

The smirk on Richie's face remained, “Downright filthy.”

Eddie breathed a laugh, “Hurry up and get ready, we’ve got things to do.”

Richie was in front of his closet, looking for a flannel to wear over his simple dark blue shirt. Once he settled on a dark green one, he turned to face Eddie, stale look settled on his features. “It’s just another day, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes once more, “First of all, don’t call me Eds,” Eddie reached over and flicked Richie on the shoulder. “Second of all, it’s your fucking _birthday_, Richie. Cool it with the morbid attitude.”

Richie watched as Eddie stole his glasses off his face and cleaned them with the hem of his yellow shirt. This time, he's the one who rolled his eyes. “Edward, how many times do I have to tell you that I literally couldn’t give less of a fuck?” Richie moved around Eddie, and grabbed his black beanie from his bedside dresser.

Eddie huffed and grabbed Richie's shoulder, which forced the taller boy to face him. Richie looked at Eddie, who was stood in front of him, face being illuminated by the sunlight coming from Richie’s open window. Eddie looked like he had a lot he wanted to say, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words seemed to follow.

While Eddie tried to find the words to speak, Richie looked at Eddie in literally, a different light. Richie noticed how the sunlight made Eddie look like a higher being; like Eddie couldn't have possibly belonged to this world. Richie stalled then, cold confusion flooding his brain at the weird thought.

Eddie had always been something of a phenomenon to him. Richie never really understood how he could possibly deserve someone in his life like Eddie, but he would be selfish enough to keep him here forever. Eddie was the best person in the world to him, and that had never been questioned in Richie’s mind.

Richie was brought out of his strange thoughts by Eddie’s voice. “Look Rich, I get it. You don’t care about your birthday, and you’re ready to turn eighteen and get the hell out of Derry,” Eddie’s eyes shined as he spoke. “But you have five best friends that aren’t ready to let you go just yet and we just want to celebrate you. Because yeah, you might be an obnoxious, disgusting, annoying, revolting, trashmouthed-”

“Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you.” Richie interrupted.

Eddie glared, “_but_ you’re ours. You’re mine.” Richie’s world slowed on its axis. _'You’re mine.'_ The words echoed in his mind, and he couldn't seem to shake them. They appeared in big block letters, turning his brain to mush. Eddie looked up at him with his big, brown eyes and soft, brown hair that Richie feels the overwhelming urge to touch.

He shook his head, again wondering where the fuck that came from. He threw on an easy smile. “Oh, dear Eddie Spaghetti, you make me melt!” He grabbed the younger in his arms, who was nearly screaming bloody murder, and lifted him high. He twirled him around the small bedroom, happiness swirling in Richie’s chest. He could have stayed right there, with Eddie, forever.

The thought is enough for him to put Eddie down and suck in a deep breath.

“Also, five? Which member of the losers club is ready to let me go?” Richie placed his index finger on his chin. Fake wonder clouded his face. “It’s Stan, isn’t it? He’s always been such a hater-”

Eddie clapped a hand over Richie’s forever moving mouth. “I said five because when you leave, I leave, asshole. We’re going to college together, remember? Or do you keep so much stupid shit in your head there isn’t room for anything else?”

Richie’s heart spasmed. “How could I forget, Spaghetti man? We’ve only been planning it since we were ten.” The moment feels so warm— Eddie looking up at Richie with fake annoyance but something soft in his eyes and Richie looking down at Eddie like he never wanted to look away. The moment was warm, too warm, so naturally, Richie had to say something to make it stop. “Besides, who else is gonna keep watch over a cutie like you? Wouldn’t want you to get lost in those big city crowds!” He pinches Eddie’s cheeks and purses his lips, making kissing noises.

Eddie shoved him away. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Eds.”

Eddie smiled then, one full of sunshine and rainbows and beauty and Richie can feel himself fucking _swoon_.

“Don’t call me that.”

Eddie’s words didn’t match his tone though, and soon enough, he grabbed Richie’s hand and was pulling him out of his room and down the stairs, with half hearted goodbyes to Maggie and Went. Richie has no idea where they’re going, but he doesn’t really care. He would’ve followed Eddie anywhere.

*

Richie didn’t like celebrating his birthday, but he had to admit, this was pretty fucking great.

For the first part of the day, it was just him and Eddie, doing all the things they would on a normal day. They went to the arcade, where Eddie gave Richie thirty dollars worth of tokens and Richie nearly _kissed_ him right there.

They played and played and played, Richie winning over and over again in Donkey Kong and Eddie absolutely demolishing Richie in Mario Bros. They were laughing and talking shit louder than anybody in the whole place, so much so that more than one Mom had to cover their child’s ears to shield them from the Trashmouth that is Richie Tozier.

After that, Eddie bought Richie ice cream, and gave him a blank stare when Richie says, “God, first the arcade, now ice cream? It’s like you’re becoming my sugar daddy, Eds.”

“Don’t I have to be older than you for that, dipshit?”

And then that led to Richie shrugging, burying his face in his ice cream cone and proceeding to chase Eddie down the street with sticky fingers and chocolate covered lips, demanding that he needed to ‘give Eddie some sugar’.

They went to their favorite place, a record and book store combined, and spend an hour there, checking out the newest arrivals and remembering books they wanted to read. Eddie didn’t really listen to records and Richie didn’t really read, but when they were together, it became their favorite things to do.

Their safe place, Richie called it. Sitting in Richie’s room with a record spinning at low volume and a book in Eddie’s hands, his soft voice enunciating every word as Richie listened, his head full of curls in Eddie’s lap. Sometimes, Eddie’s fingers would thread their way through Richie’s hair, calming the taller boy into complete serenity. Other days, Richie would make Eddie stop reading, and they’d turn the record up and danced around Richie’s room without a care in the world.

When they leave the shop, _Roxie’s Record and Book Empire,_ it’s half past five and Richie was smiling much wider than he thought he would’ve been that day. He doesn't think the day could get any better, but then Eddie tapped his shoulder and told him to stop the bike. Richie braked slowly. He turned to look at Eddie in confusion.

“Something wrong, Eds?”

Eddie had a secret smile on his face, “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’, and took a red bandanna out of his pocket. “But you do have to put this on.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “I’m all for living on the edge, Spaghetti man, but this seems like a bad idea.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, like he always does when Richie opens his mouth, and makes a motion at the bike. “You’re not driving anymore, stupid, I am.” He pulls Richie off the bike. “So, put this on and shut the hell up.”

Richie smiled, despite his confusion and curiosity that grew by the second. “God, I love it when you order me around, Eddie baby.”

Eddie’s face was unimpressed as he shoved Richie down, making him bend his obnoxiously long legs so he could tie the bandanna around his head. “Stupid, stupid, trashmouth.” He muttered

Then they’re off. Richie imagined they looked pretty comical; small little Eds, riding a bike almost too big for him, big ass Richie, hanging off the back. It made Richie laugh on more than one occasion, and so he brought his hands up sightlessly to pinch Eddie’s cheeks when Richie hears his breathing get heavy.

By the time they stopped, Eddie is downright huffing and puffing, and Richie is too— from laughter.

“You need to go on a fucking diet, Rich.”

Richie took the hand he imagined Eddie holding out and brought his other hand to his chest in mock offense. “Eddie!” He shouts with a fake, dramatic gasp. “How could you say such a thing? You wound me!”

Eddie scowled, and although Richie can’t see it, somehow, he could feel it. “If you don’t start walking I’m actually going to wound you. Annoying ass.”

“My ass is actually quite pleasant.”

“Beep, beep, Richie.”

“Shutting up, Dr. K.”

They finished the mysterious journey to wherever the fuck Eddie was taking him, and then suddenly, they stopped. Richie felt the sunlight hit his skin warmly, and he reveled in the feelings of happiness he’d had today. Nothing could make this day better.

At least that’s what he thinks before the blindfold is off.

When it is, Richie is facing his own driveway, which looked the same as it always does. Except this time, it’s like heaven on earth is staring back at him.

“_You’re kidding_,” Richie breathese, eyes wide and unbelieving. Maggie and Went are standing next to his dream car, a red, 1987 Mercedes Benz 300SL convertible, with tan interior and a big red bow on the hood.

Richie feels like he’s floating, looking at the car. He brings his eyes from the car to his parents to Eddie, over and over again.

Maggie lifts the hand that wasn’t intertwined with Went’s and tossed something at an unresponsive Richie. It hits his chest first, falling into his hands as he startles.

“Happy birthday, Richie.” His parents said in unison, eyes shining with love.

And Richie was _so_ crying right now.

He ran to his parents, squeezing them tight with an excited and very loud _fuck!_ and he’s so excited his parents don’t even bother telling him to watch his mouth.

Richie’s keys jingle in his hands and he’s fucking buzzing because their_ Richie’s keys_. He can’t even believe this is happening.

“You have quite the best friend, Richie.” Went said as Richie touched his new car in amazement. The sentence snaps him out of his daze, eyes floating back to Eddie, who’s bright smile has morphed into shy embarrassment. Eddie never did like being the center of attention.

“Huh?”

Maggie went over to Eddie, throwing her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Eddie is over Richie’s house so much that he knows his parents adore him, but for some reason, seeing his mom hug his best friend, on his sixteenth birthday, in the middle of his lawn, made Richie’s heart swell three times in size.

Went came over as well, clapping Eddie’s shoulder. “Sure, your mom and I may have busted out the money, but it was Eddie who even gave us the idea.” Richie’s heart feels like it’s hammering out of his fucking chest. _Eddie did this?_ “Eddie came to us months ago, talking animatedly about some extremely old car that you had been obsessing over for two years. He told us about the old man on his street that had fixed up and decided to sell said car, going on about how if we loved you, we would get the car for you before anyone else could buy it.”

Richie’s eyes hadn’t left Eddie since Maggie said his name. Eddie looked at the ground, now beet red, and Richie felt his heart pulse for him in a way Richie never imagined.

“He even made this cute, very detailed and thought out, PowerPoint presentation after we hadn’t made a decision for two weeks.” Maggie’s smile is tender as she looks between the two boys. “You’re very lucky to have him.”

That’s all it took for Richie to abandon his car and make quick, determined strides to Eddie. And then just like in his room that morning, Richie lifted Eddie up and spun him around. Eddie doesn’t protest this time, ducking his head into Richie’s neck and laughing loudly. Eddie’s breath on Richie’s skin feels like heaven, and Richie wonders why it’s never been there before.

When Richie put Eddie down, he’s peppering kisses all over the smaller boy’s face, causing Eddie to let out big, sweet giggles that are music to Richie’s ears. He wishes he could put that sound on repeat forever.

When he looks up, Maggie and Went are gone. It wouldn’t have mattered if they weren’t though. Nothing, absolutely nothing mattered more to Richie in this moment than Eddie.

“Edward Kaspbrak, Eddie Spaghetti, my cute, cute, cute! Eds— I can’t believe you did all that for little old me.” Richie looks down at Eddie like he’s looking at the entire world. To be fair, he is. _His_ world.

“Richard Tozier, Richie Rich, my annoying, annoying, annoying! trashmouth of a best friend— I’d do anything for you.” Eddie smiles so lovingly and serene that Richie feels an almost burning urge to press his lips to Eddie’s very pink ones. “It took a lot of convincing for Old Man Higgins to believe that a sixteen year old, new driver would take care of this car better than anybody else, but in the end, it was worth it. You deserve this.”

Richie was crying again. Big, fat, appreciative tears sliding his pale face. Eddie doesn’t say anything about them, just brings his thumb up to wipe them away as they fall. He hooks his arms around Richie’s neck, bringing the too-tall boy down to his height and kisses his cheek. Then, he was hugging Richie tightly, so tightly, Richie felt all the pieces of himself come together.

Richie’s cheek burns at the place Eddie’s lips touched. His whole body is filled with indescribable pleasure, and he can’t think of a moment he’s lived that’s ever been better than this. Hugging Eddie, right there in front of his house, he’s never felt like he belonged more.

Eddie was the first one to break the bubble they’re in. “So,” he says, pulling away from Richie. It leaves an empty feeling in Richie’s chest. “I need you to go inside and put on something nice. Nothing fancy, but nice.”

Eddie moved towards his own bike that sits in front of Richie’s garage. It had been here all day, the two opting to just take one bike, the bigger one, which was Richie’s, earlier.

Richie is full of confusion once again. “You’re leaving?” His voice sounds disappointed and lost.

Eddie smiled. “I am. I have to get ready, too.” Eddie positioned himself on his bike. “But don’t worry, you’re picking me up at eight.”

The smile was back on Richie’s face. “Is that so?”

Eddie nods. “Yup. There’s one last surprise of the evening.”

“I don’t see how the day could possibly get better than this.”

Eddie was pedaling away then, his voice carrying to Richie with the wind. “You will soon. See you at eight, Tozier! Don’t be late!”

Richie chuckles, looking back over his shoulder at Eddie getting further and further away as he makes his way inside. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Eds.”

*

Richie wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t think the day could get any better. As he slid on his favorite leather jacket over a simple, grey, button up and typical Richie Tozier skinny jeans with rips in the knees, he thought about what could possibly be waiting for him.

The losers had been uncharacteristically quiet all day. Richie has been enjoying his day with Eddie so much that he hardly noticed that his friends hadn’t acknowledged his birthday. He didn’t really care, though. He had been the one to insist it didn’t matter, and he figured that they’d been quiet just to appease him.

Richie didn’t know how wrong he was.

When he picked Eddie up at 7:58 that night, he couldn’t even get out of the car before Eddie was rushing outside, Mrs. K watching unhappily from the door. Richie raised his hand to wave, but decided against it when he felt the glare of Sonia basically hitting him in the face. Eddie opened the passenger seat door and huffed.

“Please, go. Drive.”

Richie looked at his friend in pure amusement. “First of all, I kinda need to know where I’m going first. Secondly, what’s wrong with Mrs. K?”

“The quarry,” Eddie said, buckling his seat belt. “And the usual. I’m hanging out with you. She’s terrified that you’re driving.”

Richie gave him a look before heading the same familiar way to the losers’ favorite place. “I’m responsible!”

Eddie’s face was deadpanned. “Richie. You once almost burned down your kitchen making ramen.”

“I was young! You live and you learn. Also, that could happen to anyone.”

Eddie snorted. “It was last week. And no, no it couldn’t.”

The pair bickered as usual the entire way to the quarry. Richie had gotten punched in the arm approximately seven times by his companion, mostly because he could never stop talking shit.

“I swear to god, Eddie I will crash this car and take us both out if you don’t stop hitting me.”

“I might have to take one for the team just so the world can finally be rid of you.”

“Rude!”

Once they arrived, it was then that Richie looked Eddie up and down, his heart thumping painfully in his rib cage and all the blood in his body flowing _south_.

Eddie looked beautiful. That was the only word that Richie felt was good enough to describe him. Eddie was wearing cute, medium wash overalls with a salmon (a color that Richie would never have known had Eddie not said it a million and one times) colored shirt underneath, and classic chucks at his feet.

Richie felt himself flush at how much he wanted to kiss Eddie. He might’ve too, if it wasn’t for the strong voice of Mike snapping his eyes away.

“The birthday boy!” Mike was on him in an instant, hugging Richie tight. Richie hugged back just as tight, laughing at the impact. “Mikie, my man! Where are the others?”

“Waiting,” was Eddie’s response.

Mike smiled, “Gotta close your eyes, Rich.”

Richie eyed both of his friends suspiciously. He closed one eye, looking comically as Eddie glared at him. “Stupid, stupid, asshole.” Eddie dug in his pocket, pulling the same red bandanna out from earlier.

“I told you we couldn’t trust him to do it himself. I had to bring back up.”

This time, Mike tied the bandanna around Richie’s eyes. Richie couldn’t help but miss Eddie’s touch. “Lead the way, my good fellows!” Richie says in one of his stupid accents.

They don’t walk for long, but it’s enough to have Mike doubling over in laughter from Richie and Eddie’s usual bickering. Eddie is red in the face and telling Richie to shut the fuck up, and Richie is smirking with his eyes covered and telling Eddie his mouth can do better things than talk anyway.

When they stopped, Mike moved away from one of Richie’s sides, and Richie felt small hands that can only belong to the one and only Eddie Kaspbrak grab his arms and turn him around. Eddie reaches up on his tiptoes to untie the bandanna, and when Richie opened his eyes, Eddie was so close that it alarms him. Eddie stopped momentarily, still straining up, staring into Richie’s eyes with his own emotion-filled eyes.

“Richie,” Eddie breathed.

“Yeah, Eds?”

Eddie smiled. “Turn around.”

Richie did as he was told. He turned around, and was fully taken aback by what he saw. The familiar grassy space was filled with tiki lights, a table full of food, chairs and Mike’s truck bed, that was open and littered with many beers. Richie felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

The losers were bunched up in the middle, Mike rejoining the group. There were balloons everywhere and the losers had on stupid, brightly colored party hats and had stupid kazoos in their mouths and Richie felt so loved he couldn’t stand it.

“Happy birthday, Richie!” they said all together, and before Richie really knew what was happening, Eddie was pulling him down and putting another stupid looking crown on his head.

“Geez, way to make a guy feel emotional,” Richie’s eyes were glossy with his feelings.

“Emotional? Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me, Tozier.” Richie sucked in a loud, surprised gasp at the voice. The losers parted right down the middle then, and out walked none other than Beverly fucking Marsh.

“Bev,” the name came out as a whisper as Richie started running, taking the small girl in his arms in complete and utter disbelief. Beverly laughed the loudest, sweetest most authentic Beverly Marsh laugh, and it was right then that Richie felt complete.

“How-what are you- how can you even- _what the fuck, Bev?_” Richie couldn’t get the words to come out the way he wanted them too. All of this, this entire day had been so incredibly overwhelming that even the forever talking Trashmouth was rendered speechless.

“Y-you sound-d like m-me, Rich.” Bill said, coming over to where Richie, Beverly and Eddie stood. He hugged Richie with conviction. “C-cat got y-your t-tongue?”

“We all pitched in to fly her in on time.” Mike smiled, looking around the group with loving eyes. “Call it a conjoined present.”

Richie just stared, completely blank. His eyes were wide and his mouth was ajar, and god, he just knew he looked like something comically stupid.

Eddie snorted from where he stood, “First time in his life asshole doesn’t know what to say.”

Ben walked over next, warm grin on his face. “We’ve managed to make Richie Tozier speechless?”

Stan was next to quip. He walked over, taking his place next to Bill. “Thank God,” He scoffed. “If you ask me, we’ve done the world a favor.”

Richie regained his composure when all the losers were surrounding him. “Hey, hey, hey!” He screeched, puffing out his chest. “No trashing the trashmouth, _especially_ on his birthday!”

Bill tossed Richie a smug grin. Mike laughed. “Thought this day didn’t matter?”

Richie rolled his eyes. “I might be starting to change my mind.”

And after that, Bev pulled Richie to the circle of chairs in the middle of the tiki torches, and shoved a beer in his hand, telling him to sit. The losers sat there all night, laughing until they can’t breathe and smiling so hard their cheeks hurt. They got up at one point in the night, turned up the speaker Mike had brought and danced terribly in the grass. Richie drank so many beers that he was an absolute shit-show, smothering Eddie and antagonizing Stan, but nobody seemed to mind.

Some time after two, they laid out the blankets Eddie had stolen from his linen closet and stared up at the stars together. They blew out the tiki torches and put on calmer music, but they were still all a giggling mess. Ben told them about his job at the bike shop and Stan updated them on the club he started at school, Beverly entertained with stories of Portland and Mike told them how he might be starting public school for junior year and they all fucking cheered because _god damn_, it’s about time.

After a while, the losers started to fall asleep one by one, wishing Richie one last happy birthday as they drifted. Richie was convinced he was the last one awake, but as he’s smiling too hard up at the sky, he hears Eddie chuckle softly next to him. Richie’s head immediately turned to the sound.

“Today… today was magical, Eds.” Richie couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt this happy. Eddie wiped his eyes tiredly from beside Richie, before he turned ever so slightly towards the taller boy. Richie’s body moved at its own accord and pulled Eddie closer.

“I’m glad, Rich.” A sigh falls from Eddie’s perfect, pink lips. “I’m so happy everything went according to plan.”

They were facing each other now, eyes locked in a heated stare. Richie feels his cheeks flush, and he’s not sure if it’s from the chilly Maine air, the eleven beers he had or the fact that Eddie is looking at him like he wants to kiss Richie too.

Richie had thought that Eddie looked good in the sunlight. He had thought that the sun made Eddie look divine and holy and everything angelic. But as the two laid staring at each other, under the soft glow of the moonlight, Richie was positive that he preferred that Eddie. The moon shined down and illuminated the sharp curve of Eddie’s cheekbones, the outline of his cute, button-like nose, and it helped Richie count the freckles dusted upon his cheeks. Richie felt like someone robbed all the stars out of the sky and somehow, someway, put them all on Eddie’s cheeks.

“Eddie,” Richie was whispering now.

“Richie,” Eddie was whispering back.

Richie bumped his nose against Eddie’s, loving the way that Eddie took a deep breath. Like the closeness was affecting him just as much as it was affecting Richie. Like he wanted to kiss Richie just as much as Richie wanted to kiss him.

Richie finally closed the space between them, and slowly, tentatively kissed Eddie. Eddie sighed in content at the feeling, kissing him back just as gentle.

The kiss was only a second, and hardly anything at all, but it’s enough for them both. When Richie pulled away, Eddie tucked himself into his side, and tossed his arm over Richie’s stomach. Richie pressed a kiss to Eddie’s hair. It’s beautiful, so beautiful that Richie couldn’t even comprehend it.

“Happy birthday, Richie.” Eddie whispers, right before his breathing evens out and his eyes droop shut.

Richie smiled, squeezing the boy in his arms affectionately. “Goodnight, Eds.”

_I love you,_ Richie thinks.

And maybe, just maybe, sixteen isn’t that bad after all.

*

Now that Richie Tozier was eighteen, he realizes that it wasn’t all he had hoped it would be.

Prom had just passed in a blur of alcohol, camera flashes and bad music, and now that was over, everything was changing at an alarming speed. The losers were sending in college applications and stressing about graduation and all of a sudden Richie felt like life had gotten so much heavier. The fact that all of his best friends were about to spread out all over the country left a burning feeling in Richie’s gut. He had dreams about what it’d be like when they all left, and his brain had an unattractive way of finding a terrible ending every single time. They all ended with the losers never talking again, and on more than one occasion it made his heart thump and his eyes sting.

This was _not_ the way he wanted to imagine his future.

“Adulting fucking sucks,” Richie told Eddie a random night in April. They were in his room, math homework spread out on the bed in front of them.

Eddie just snorted. “You can say that again.”

The only thing that Richie knows he can count on is Eddie. Eddie, who is gonna get his UCLA acceptance letter any day now. Eddie, who was the one he would spend the next four years with. Eddie, who Richie is still, very stupidly, mind numbingly, soul crushingly in love with.

They had never talked about the kiss they shared on Richie’s birthday, two years ago. Richie never so much as thought about it around Eddie, fearful that something on his face would give it away. He thought about it obsessively when he was alone though, weighing the pros and cons of just coming right out with it. He figured that Eddie had to have at least felt something for him, considering that he kissed him back.

It made Richie’s head hurt.

Eventually, Richie decided that he’d tell Eddie when they started school together. He figured that telling Eddie in the beginning of their journey could mean a new beginning for the two of them, together, really together, as well. Richie wanted to be with Eddie, and him keeping this large, painful and somehow growing secret to himself was killing him. He’d talked to Beverly and Stan about it, them all having a group Facetime between school and work and every other stressful thing life managed to throw at them.

“Richie, for the last time, everything will be fine,” Beverly said to him then. He had just finished the same frantic spiel he always said, all his insecurities and fears plaguing his mind every time he thought too hard about it. Bev had stopped what she was doing, which happened to be painting her fingernails. “Eddie is literally just as in love as you are. It’s actually sickening to see the looks you two give each other.”

Stan looks unimpressed with Richie’s worried rant. “It’s absolutely disgusting.” Stan shakes out his curls slightly, scowling back at Richie when he raises the middle finger at the comment. “God, if Eddie is as smart as I think he is, he’ll reject you. Feelings or not, I wouldn't wish a relationship with you on my worst enemy.”

Even though what Stan said wouldn’t sound encouraging to anyone else, to Richie, it made relief wash over him. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Stan the man.”

“Shut up, Richie.”

That was last month, and now it’s the beginning of May and Richie, who was staring down at his calculus homework with the blankest of faces, is thinking about everything that’s ever happened between Eddie and himself. He did this sometimes; got lost in thought reviewing every single conversation, every single touch and every single look Eddie had ever given him, just so that he could feel some sort of security in the decision he’s made.

No matter how many times he does it, the security never stays.

With a groan, Richie lays his pencil down, giving up for the night. It was one of those rare nights he wasn’t with Eddie, something about a doctor's appointment that Sonia was making him go to before he could be ‘cleared to go to school’ in her eyes. Richie could sacrifice one day with Eddie if it meant that Sonia would finally release her vice grip and let Eddie live his life.

It was seven thirty when Eddie called, and Richie couldn’t have been more grateful for the distraction.

“Eddie, my boy! Thank God for you. My eyes are about to fall out of my fucking head looking at these stupid equations.” Richie looked down at his unfinished homework and pulled a face, not giving one single shit.

“Hey, Richie.” Richie hears it instantly. The uncharacteristically sad tone of Eddie’s voice. The absence of his usual fire.

“What’s wrong, Eds?”

Eddie takes a deep breath before speaking. “I got my UCLA decision letter.”

Richie perks up at that. “And?” He bites his nails anxiously, trying to prepare himself for Eddie to tell him he didn’t get in. It doesn’t make any sense in Richie’s head; it was _Eddie_. Eddie was one of the smartest people Richie had never met. There was no way he didn’t get in.

“I got in, Rich.”

Richie feels like he's floating right then. Visions of him and Eddie on campus, in their dorm, in class together flooded Richie’s excited mind. He pictured laying with Eddie in their room, arms tangled together and breaths mingling. This was _perfect. _

Except, Eddie wasn’t acting as excited as Richie hoped. “That’s fucking amazing, Eds,” He can’t stop the confusion from seeping into his voice any longer. “so why do you sound so sad?”

There's a pause, one that was unexpectedly heavy. Richie is lost in this conversation. He doesn’t understand why Eddie sounds so sad when they were three months from living the next four years together.

“I- It’s-” Eddie stops talking, like he's trying to get his thoughts together. “I got another acceptance letter in the mail today.”

“Oh,” Richie says slowly, not really knowing what to say. “Um, w-where to?”

Richie knew that Eddie had applied to other schools. He knew that. Eddie had applied to three in California and a couple in Washington, and while Richie knew that realistically, it was very much a possibility that Eddie could pick another school, his mind never let him think about it.

“NYU.” Eddie exhales as he said it.

Richie’s world came to a screeching halt. His mind is wiped clean of everything reasonable. He sits in his desk chair with his posture rigid and his breathing shallow.

_NYU. _

_New York University._

**_ New York_.**

“I didn’t know you applied,” was the only thing Richie could say.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Eddie’s voice is small. “I didn’t think I would get in.”

They don’t speak for a couple moments. There is nothing, no sound. Richie wishes his mind would work. That his chest would stop feeling like it had been set on fire. He waited for Eddie to reassure him, to dismiss the idea of ever going to school where Richie wouldn’t be. He waited and waited and waited and waited, but the words never came.

The revelation was enough to knock the wind out of him completely. “You’re going.” It wasn’t a question.

“I have to, Rich. It’s New York.”

Yeah, maybe Eddie had mentioned a few times that he wanted to move to New York one day. But that’s just it; whenever Eddie talked about New York, he always made it seem so far away. Like it was so far in the future that Eddie himself couldn’t see it. Eddie never mentioned anything about wanting to go to school there. _Ever_.

By the time Richie learned how to speak again, he didn’t even recognize his voice. “So, just like that, huh?”

“Rich-”

“You get accepted into NYU and all of sudden all the plans we made together don’t matter?”

Eddie gasps, “Richie, that’s not fair-”

Richie is standing now, pacing his room in an angry frenzy. He doesn’t try to calm himself down, doesn’t try to breathe. He keeps his mind blank and feeds off his anger. Because Richie knows that if he lets himself calm down, if he lets himself think of anything other than the anger, for even a second, that all he’ll be left with is intense, unrelenting heartbreak.

“You didn’t even fucking tell me, Eddie. Did you think that I wouldn’t want to know that my best friend was planning to ditch all of the plans we’ve made since we were in the fourth fucking grade?” Richie’s hands are shaking now. “Did you think that I would just laugh and say, ‘congrats, Eddie!’ and that everything would be fine?”

“_Richie_.” Eddie’s voice was panicked and thick. “I didn’t keep it from you on purpose. I didn’t think I would get in. It was a pipe dream that I wasn’t even counting on. I have always wanted to live out all the plans we made, Richie. You know that.” Richie shook his head while Eddie went on. “But I was making these plans without being true to my dreams. I didn’t ever think I’d be good enough for somewhere like New York, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t at least apply.”

It made sense. Everything Eddie was saying made sense and Richie knew it. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that it made sense, it didn’t matter that this was hurting Eddie too, it didn’t matter because all that Richie could think about was the fact that soon enough he would be three thousand miles away from the love of his life. And it _hurt_.

“When?” Richie asks then, nausea piling up in the back of his throat.

“When what?”

“When did you apply?”

If possible, Eddie’s voice was quieter than before. “Late March.”

Richie physically staggers back at that. He felt the ground being ripped out from underneath him, thinking back to all the times in the two months that the two had talked about California and moving and taking on school together and now Richie can hardly breathe because it was all a fucking _lie_.

Richie feels faint. He feels like someone is watching into his chest and ripping out his heart, torturously slow.

“Richie- please- just-” Eddie sounded desperate. “Please, say something.”

Richie thought of all the things he wanted to say. _I love you_, was one. _Please don’t go_, was another. He thought of how badly he wanted to tell Eddie that he was in love with him. He thought of how badly he wanted Eddie to tell him that he didn’t care about New York and that all he cared about was being with Richie.

“There’s nothing else to say, Eddie.” Richie clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would shatter. “You lied to me. You let me believe that our plans— that I was more important you than I actually was. You’ve been lying to me for months, Eddie. What the fuck could you possibly expect me to say?”

“Richie, _I’m sorry_.”

Eddie was crying now. Richie heard it in between breaths. He heard the far away sobs— like Eddie had to pull the phone from his ear before he could cry. Usually, Richie would be sound anything he could just to hear Eddie laugh. He would make it his mission to make him feel better.

Now, though? Now, Richie wanted Eddie to hurt as much as he was.

“I can’t talk to you, right now. Goodbye, Eddie.”

Richie hangs up as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth. He stares at the wall for a minute, then another one. The pain starts somewhere after those moments, slamming into him violently. He grips at his hair and then his chest, vision increasingly blurring.

It’s red hot and terrifying, filling Richie’s body until he can’t think of anything else. His lip is bleeding from when he hit through the skin while Eddie talked.

_Eddie. _

Even _thinking_ the name is enough to throw Richie off the deep end.

Suddenly, Richie is shoving shit off his desk and punching the wall over and over, trying anything, absolutely anything to just _make the pain stop_.

His door is open in seconds, Maggie Tozier staring wide-eyed at her son. Her eyes move from his pained features to his bloody hand to the mess of books and papers around him and is crossing the room before she even asks what the hell is going on.

She wraps her arms around his shaking, bruised hand and looks up at him, ever so softly speaking in fear of setting him off again. “Richie? What’s going on, honey?”

And that’s all it takes. Maggie’s calming voice and her stupid kind eyes and her annoyingly gentle touch are all it takes for Richie to fall apart. His legs give out from under him and he sinks to the floor, wild, wrecked sobs falling from his lips. Maggie drops to the ground right next to him, leaning against the foot of his bed, holding him in her tightly.

Richie stops sobbing long enough to tell her, in a pained, tear soaked voice, “Eddie got into NYU. H-he’s going.”

Maggie’s heart breaks right there. “Oh, Richie.”

And they stay there, for god knows how long, Richie crying and Maggie holding him, making sure to never, ever let go.

Richie decides, right then and there, while he’s sobbing, ugly and loud and unforgiving, that he _hates_ eighteen. Richie hates this stupid age more than he has ever hated anything in his fucking life. Right there, in that humiliating, heart breaking moment, Richie Tozier wishes so fucking desperately that he could go back to sixteen.

So much for new beginnings, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it! make sure to leave some feedback!! i love seeing comments and stuff like that. it motivates me to write.


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